Chapter 120: Hundred and Twenty

I lay with my head against Declan’s chest, listening to the uneven rhythm of his breathing. His arm was draped around me, heavy, my anchor. For once, I didn’t feel like I was drifting. But the silence between us wasn’t easy. It was weighted, charged as always. But there was a certain kind of peace, still, in being wrapped up in him.

Something nostalgic. Something of a dream.

When I finally lifted my gaze, his eyes were already open, fixed on the ceiling like he was staring through it. His jaw was tense, his hand unconsciously tightening around my arm.

“Declan,” I whispered, almost afraid to break the moment, “say something.”

He turned his head slowly, and for a long second, he just looked at me. No mask, no practiced detachment, just him. My Declan.

“You want to know what it was like for me?” His voice was rough, raw. “After you left?”

I swallowed, my heart stuttering. “Yes.”

He let out a bitter laugh, the kind that didn’t belong to the man I once knew. His thumb traced absently over my skin, but his tone was hard.

“I was lost, Willow. Completely fucking lost. One morning you were there, and the next you were gone. No note, no explanation, just… nothing. I thought maybe you’d call. Or text. Or…hell, anything. But there was silence. And then Mara showed up.” His voice cracked when he said her name, and I felt my stomach clench.

“What did she say?” My voice was barely audible.

He looked at me then, really looked, and the intensity made me flinch. “That you’d left because you couldn’t handle me. Because you had used me, and you were hurt and felt I had taken advantage of you. She said you wanted me for the perks . That you’d laugh about me to her, about how naive I was to think you loved me.”

Tears burned behind my eyes. “Declan.”

“I didn’t believe her,” he cut in sharply. Then softer, almost broken: “I wanted to believe you weren’t like that. I didn’t believe her for a second. But you didn’t come back. You didn’t explain. What was I supposed to do? You disappeared, Willow. You erased yourself. No number, no social media, no trace. I tried to find you. I swear to God, I tried. But you were gone.”

His chest rose and fell against my cheek, his heartbeat frantic.

“So I threw myself into work. Case after case, project after project. My research, and this fucking consulting work. I thought if I drowned myself in it, maybe I wouldn’t feel the hole you left behind. But it didn’t work. Nothing worked.” His hand lifted, pressed against his eyes like he couldn’t stand me watching him unravel. “I tried to date. Tried to pretend I could build something with someone else. But I couldn’t. Every time it ended the same way. With me realizing that no one was you.”

The dam inside me broke, once again. Silent tears slid down my cheeks, wetting his skin. “Declan…”

He dropped his hand and looked at me again, and the devastation in his eyes shredded me. “You think I haven’t despised you? I did. For a long time. Despised you for leaving, blamed myself for letting you in. But no matter what I did, I couldn’t cut you out. I’d see something… a laugh, a stupid song, a woman on the train with hair like yours, and it would gut me all over again. You’ve been in my heart,” he grabbed my hand, pressing into his chest, “all these years. You are my undoing.”

I pressed closer to him, trembling, my hand clutching him like if I let go, I’d lose him all over again. “I’m sorry,” I whispered into his chest. “I’m so, so sorry. You don’t know how many nights I lay awake thinking about you, wanting to reach out, and hating myself for staying silent.”

He tilted my face up, his thumb brushing away the wetness on my cheek. “You should have come to me. We could have figured it out. Everything would be different right now. We’d have a family.” His voice cracked again. “You and me, we were supposed to be different. I told you, Willow. I told you you were it for me.”

For a long moment, we just stared at each other, breathing the same heavy air. My chest hurt with the weight of everything he was confessing. My choices. His pain. The years between us.

And then, to my own surprise, I blurted out, “What about her? Sabrina?”

His brows pulled together. “Sabrina?”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. “The PR consultant. The one you dated.”

He froze. “How the hell do you know about Sabrina?”

I bit my lip, embarrassed, and whispered, “I… may have stalked your LinkedIn.”

The sound that burst from him was half laugh, half disbelief. His eyes widened, and then he shook his head, covering his face with his hand. “Jesus Christ, Willow.”

“What?” I said defensively, though my lips were twitching. “It’s a professional platform.”

“You stalked my LinkedIn?” he repeated, lowering his hand, the faintest trace of amusement cutting through his otherwise pained visage.

“Yes,” I muttered. “And it was very informative, thank you.”

He sighed, but the corners of his mouth softened. “Sabrina was… a nice girl. My parents set us up. We dated for a year. She deserved more than I could give her, and I think she knew it. Because I was only ever halfway in. My body was there, I was there. But she never had my heart.” His hand slid down, resting over mine, grounding me. His voice dropped. “You were the one who had that. Always.”

The ache in my chest deepened, but this time it wasn’t just pain. It was recognition, the raw truth of what we’d both carried all these years. I understood, because he had had my heart all these years, too.

I leaned forward, pressed my forehead against his, and whispered, “We’re a mess, Declan.”

He exhaled a shaky laugh. “Yeah.”

And in the quiet dark, with his breath warm against my lips, I let myself float away. Into some abyss, some dream. In the morning, we would think, again. For now, I was his, and he was mine. Like we were meant to be.